haiku by Tammy Daniel

 

Tracks rumbled warning–

whistle never heard over

baby’s cry. Silence.

Two Poems by Tammy Daniel

Lock, Stock and Barrel

In the corner
by the window,
Dad’s hunting rifles
stood with tung-oiled conviction
like soldiers waiting for the call
to arms, for the next big hunt,
another shot at a white-tailed buck.

“Anybody’d be lucky to have ‘em,”
he’d say to just about anyone
within a beer’s reach.

Seems he was right—
strangely enough
the man at the pawn shop
said the same thing
as I handed him
my check.

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